


Merrily On High

by Andromache_42



Series: SPN Advent Calendar 2019 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, American Civil War, Christmas Party, Dancing, Historically Inaccurate, Inspired by "Little Women", M/M, Romantic Tension, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromache_42/pseuds/Andromache_42
Summary: For all that the Shurley House and Campbell Estate were neighbors, the state of the houses could not have been more different. Castiel couldn’t help but gaze at the shining interior with a little awe as they shed their coats inside the door. As the eldest, Castiel escorted Hannah into the parlor, where a lively gathering of the neighborhood chattered over the soft sounds of the musicians in the corner. A goodly number of them danced in the middle of the room, and Castiel counted himself lucky that it seemed the number of young women was much surpassed by the number of young men. With any luck, that would mean he was not required to dance.Written for Supernatural Advent Calendar 2019Day 5: Christmas Party
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: SPN Advent Calendar 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561129
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Merrily On High

The Campbell Estate was set back several dozen yards from the road, the long drive lined with brightly twinkling lanterns and lush holly wreaths. Castiel watched it all pass by idly, while Gabriel stomped along beside him, kicking up clouds of snow and singing a carol, unrecognizable off-key.

“’Tiiiiis the season _fig-gy pud-ding_!”

“Enough, Gabriel,” Hannah tutted.

“We could have left him at home,” Castiel replied.

“The invitation was clearly intended for all of the elder Shurley siblings. It wouldn’t do to have only two of them arrive.”

“And it definitely isn’t a party without me,” Gabriel quipped, but he did become slightly better behaved after that.

For all that the Shurley House and Campbell Estate were neighbors, the state of the houses could not have been more different. Castiel couldn’t help but gaze at the shining interior with a little awe as they shed their coats inside the door. As the eldest, Castiel escorted Hannah into the parlor, where a lively gathering of the neighborhood chattered over the soft sounds of the musicians in the corner. A goodly number of them danced in the middle of the room, and Castiel counted himself lucky that it seemed the number of young women was much surpassed by the number of young men. With any luck, that would mean he was not required to dance.

Gabriel parted ways with them, the singed back panel of his coat disappearing amongst the throng, likely on his way to the refreshment table. Hannah sighed as he left. Castiel patted her gloved hand reassuringly where it rested on his elbow.

“We’re better rid of him,” Castiel said. Hannah smacked him lightly with her closed fan.

“Manners, Castiel,” she chided.

The room was in a festive mood, and Hannah quickly found her dance card filled. Castiel successfully navigated his way out of any dances with the ladies in the crowd, only fibbing once or twice before turning Hannah over to the attentions of her dance partners.

It was easy, then, to fade into the background, skirting his way along the edge of the room to slide behind a set of thick red curtains and into a secluded alcove.

“Ouch!”

Not so secluded, then.

“Excuse me, I’m terribly sorry—” Castiel stammered, turning to face the person whose hiding place he’d unintentionally discovered.

“No, no, it’s my fault. Shoulda found a better place to hide.”

For once in his life, Castiel found himself struck dumb. A set of sparkling green eyes and a disarming smile shone on the handsome, boyish face before him. Castiel’s heart skipped a beat as the alcove’s occupant put a large hand forward.

“Dean Winchester,” he said.

“Cas—Castiel Shurley,” Castiel managed, shaking Mr. Winchester’s hand.

“I know,” Winchester replied, and Castiel’s reaction must have shown on his face, because he laughed sheepishly. “I’ve seen you with your siblings. Out of the window? You waved to me once.”

Castiel realized that he’d been holding on to Mr. Winchester’s hand just a bit too long a little too late, snatching it back as he exclaimed, “You’re Mr. Campbell’s ward?” Winchester blushed and shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Grandson, actually. My brother and I came to live here after mother died. He’s training me to take over the family estate. Grandfather doesn’t believe in indulging childish whims like _fresh air_ and _exercise_.”

“Hence the staring,” Castiel acknowledged sagely. Winchester barked a laugh.

“You and your siblings are so free! You can’t begrudge me a little envy.”

Castiel scowled. “If you can envy a family too poor to support its eldest child and heir’s education, leaving the rest of the family with debts and an uncertain future, and a mother left to raise four children alone.” Winchester’s jaw fell open, and then it was Castiel’s turn to blush. “Forgive me, Mr. Winchester, propriety isn’t my strongest suit.”

“No, no, please, lecture me a little more,” he said with a grin that softened his words. “It’s a far better occupation than dancing. And it’s Dean, by the way. Mr. Winchester was my father.”

“Dean,” Castiel replied softly.

As Christmas carols played on and the rest of the party reveled beyond, Castiel and Dean whiled away the time discussing politics and religion, and all of the other things Castiel had been taught were not meant for polite conversation. He thought, circumstances being different than they were, they could become fast friends.

Dean stole away and returned with glasses of champagne, which Castiel sipped and resolved _not_ to tell his mother about. After three or four glasses, the bubbles seemed to affect him, as he grew increasingly giggly as the night wore on.

“Look!” Dean exclaimed at one point, leaning out of the curtains. Castiel stole over next to him, trying to spot what he pointed out. “Is that your sister dancing with my brother?”

Sure enough, he saw Hannah, her green and gold plaid homespun standing out like a sore thumb in the middle of the other finery on the floor, cheeks lit pink as she danced with a very tall young man with almost unfashionably long hair.

“They look like a nice pair,” Dean remarked. Castiel scoffed. Even the younger grandson of a man like Samuel Campbell wouldn’t find a match in someone like Hannah Shurley.

“I keep telling Sammy I’m going to take kitchen shears to his hair if he doesn’t make an appointment at the barber’s, but you can see how seriously he takes me. Look at him out there, attempting to turn the Winchester charm onto all of the girls. I told him it doesn’t work properly until he’s turned twenty-one, but he thinks rather highly of himself there, too.” Dean was grinning again. Suddenly there was a hand in front of Castiel’s face. “A dance, my lady?”

Castiel snorted, then bowed with ridiculous flourish. “Of course, my good sir.”

They skipped and stomped around their alcove, laughing uproariously at their lack of coordination, each trying to take the gentleman’s part and inevitably treading on each other’s toes. Castiel was having a far better time than he thought he would.

“I’m glad!” Dean cried, and it took a long moment for Castiel to figure out that he’d spoken those thoughts aloud.

The music changed tempo, and Castiel found himself drifting closer to Dean, settling a hand on his shoulder while Dean’s drifted to his back. He shuddered involuntarily as they began to sway, eyes locked on each other’s. Heat crept up Castiel’s cheeks and the back of his neck; something was settling between them, something Castiel hardly dared acknowledge. For one dangerous, daring moment, Castiel wondered what it might be like to kiss him, and a dark, heated desire flashed through his belly.

“Castiel . . .” Dean murmured, and just like that the spell broke.

“Mr. Winchester,” Castiel said, pushing away from him and taking a step back. “If you will excuse me, I should collect my siblings and take my leave.”

“Wait, Cas, hang on—”

“Merry Christmas,” Castiel said, rushing back out into the crowded parlor.

He couldn’t find Hannah, for all of his searching, but he did manage to drag Gabriel away from a crowd who had taken to gambling on dice in a corner.

“Where’s Hannah?” Castiel demanded, but Gabriel only shrugged.

“You’re the oldest, aren’t you supposed to be the chaperone?”

Castiel seethed, though he knew Gabriel was right. Shockingly, Gabriel took pity on him. “Maybe she’s in the foyer?” Gabriel suggested.

As luck would have it, they found her there, seated on a small bench and cradling her ankle. But she wasn’t alone.

“Excuse me,” he said, practically elbowing Samuel Winchester, with his ludicrously long hair, out of the way before shielding Hannah’s exposed calves from view.

“No, Castiel, please, it was all my fault. It’s these shoes.”

“She twisted her ankle, I sent my brother for some ice,” Samuel said.

“Here,” came a voice from behind, a warm hand on his shoulder. Castiel took the napkin, wrapped around some chips of ice, and pressed it into Hannah’s hands. She lifted her foot to apply it discreetly to her ankle.

“Thank you,” Castiel said curtly. “We should be going now.”

“Wait, Cas, you can’t walk. Take the carriage, I’ll call it for you.”

“We’ll manage, Mr. Winchester.”

Samuel cut across them. “Please, I insist.” Hannah blushed prettily, which caused an irrational rush of anger to surge through Castiel, though he was unable to refuse.

“Thank you,” he ceded bitterly.

After a tense few minutes, the carriage was brought around. Castiel moved to help Hannah but Gabriel and Samuel stepped in, carefully guiding her down the steps and out into the snow.

“Cas, wait.” Castiel stopped, but didn’t turn. “I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to offend you . . .”

“You didn’t offend, Mr. Winchester.” A thick pause stretched between them, one Castiel found himself longing to break, but couldn’t bear to do it.

“Perhaps I’ll see more of you? I’d like to,” Dean ventured quietly. Castiel breathed in the cold night air, long and deeply.

“Of course. We are neighbors, after all.”

“Cas—”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Winchester.”

He was down the steps and out to the carriage before Dean could get out another word. It had been the champagne, that was all. Surely that buzz under his skin would fade as the alcohol did.

As he watched Dean raise a hand in greeting from his window in Mr. Campbell’s house the next day, Castiel realized that no, it wouldn’t.


End file.
